


Long ride

by orphan_account



Series: Bart & co. [1]
Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:58:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bart is forced to sit next to Faquarl during a ride to London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreyonea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreyonea/gifts).



> Ok, so, me and my friend love Bartimaeus. And at the beginning of the holidays, she gave me the Ring of Solomon and I fell into the pit again. Once again, I was summoned from the Other Place, where my essence was swirling freely, to pain, no troubles, and suddenly I found myself standing inside a pentacle. Humilating, I tell you. My first task was to write a fanfic on pairing Bartimaeus/Faquarl, but, naturally, I found a little gap and smuggled some Bart/Ptolemy through.  
> And, to tell the truth, just as Bartimaeus, I think that I am actually enjoying this.  
> So goodbye for now, from me, Simona the Great, The Killer and Tormentor of many, Little Black Monster. 
> 
> ...ehm. I might have let myself to be carried away a little. But I have no regrets.

“No! Mr Khaba, please, you don´t understand!” I cried (yes, yes, cried; it´s embarrassing, I know), but my pleases came to no avail; Khaba remained as insensitive as ever.  
“Would you be so kind, Bartimaeus, and stopped whining?” he asked impassively as he pushed me back into my seat, which wasn´t next to window and most certainly not next to Ptolemy.  
In the window seat sat Faquarl and I really, really didn´t want to sit with him. It´s not that I hate him, really; (well, I might be a little bit lying at this one, but we all have our flaws, don´t we?) it´s just that it was going to be a really, awfully LONG ride and I wasn´t planning on spending it next to Faquarl.  
But Khaba didn´t want to listen; I hated that mam, gods know that I really did (well, maybe they didn´t even care, but you get the point) and he was a real pain in the ass (although here Faquarl certainly beat him) but I still couldn´t do anything about it. At least the headmaster mentioned it when he taught a lesson in our class (ehm, the truth is that he said it to me personally in his office after he caught me writing obscenities on the bathroom walls about our dearest chemistry professor. I still have no regrets.).  
“But I was supposed to sit with Ptolemy!” I bursted out in the end, too aware of how childish it sounded. Unfortunately, Khaba noticed it as well, and grinned like a Chesshire cat.  
“Come on, Bart,” he said in a sing song voice I hated to much (I am one hundred percent sure that he fucking knew HOW I hated it. I made sure to express the disgust on my face every time he used it in class. Usually before an exam) and I cringed. “Just how old are you?”  
“Seventeen,” I peeped and heard Faquarl snicker next to me (he was older then me. Five fucking months, but he always acted as if it was at least five YEARS. But I was still more mature than him. When I wasn´t whining over not sitting next to Ptolemy...) so I kicked him just for a good measure.  
Khaba grinned. “So would you stop acting like a preschooler, Bartimaeus?” With these words, he trailed off to settle other students to their seats (I mean, every single one of us was truly capable of choosing their own seat. It´s only HIM who has a problem and feels the need to treat us like preschoolers. You hear me, Khaba? How am I supposed to NOT act like a preschooler if I am treated like one? I demand justice.).  
I was left alone with Faquarl.  
“You should know that I get sick during long rides,” he announced in a calm voice. I groaned.  
It was going to be a really long ride. 

It wasn´t that bad.  
No, forget it; I just tried to be a bit optimistic and see a lighter side, but I just couldn´t. Not with Faquarl at my side who looked quite green every once in a while and the whole bus shaking and creaking all the way. And it was hot, and not in a good way. The stench of sweat hung in the air like some inevitable curse and our destination (British national museum, how patriotic) was still nowhere in sight.  
At least Faquarl hasn´t thrown up all over me so far. That was a plus. I really hoped it wasn´t going to happed any time soon.  
Khaba looked like he was having a good time, though. Sitting in the front seat, right next to the driver with his *cough* boyfriend *cough* Ammet. He was sitting right next to an open window through which he got the wind blowing right into his face. Couldn´t they just invest into a bus with air-conditioning? (Well, I think that after that incident with the Natty boy, me, certain amulet and our ex-history teacher, professor Lovelace, our school was forced to tighten a belt a little bit. But on my behalf I must say that it was his idea all along).  
The ride seemed infinite, really. I mean, it could have been just the effect of Faquarl´s presence or the lack of Ptolemy, or even the situation in London streets. (Yes, at least we finally arrived to London, great! Now, we only need to get to the museum, that´s easy-peasy in this traffic).  
I have never been as happy as in the moment when I finally got off the bus, breathed in the fresh air (or not so fresh) of London and joined Ptolemy and Nathaniel (or John Mandrake, as he insisted that we call him lately) for the excursion, happily waving goodbye to the blond giant next to me.  
The excursion was quite fine. Good. Great, I mean. I LOVE history (when Lovelace isn´t teaching it. Anyway, he was crappy at it. He was calling the egyptian rulers pharaohs. I mean, those weren´t pharaohs. His teaching seemed like he saw every episode of Indiana Jones and that was all. I don´t regret the incident with the amulet. Not at all. The detention was totally worth it) and I don´t want to think myself superior or anything, but mine and Ptolemy´s projects are always the best. And mine are also funny. I am the best. That´s why Lovelace never seemed to like me at all.  
However, it could have been even better if Khaba wasn´t stalking as all the time with Ammet creeping from behind him like a too large, creepy shadow. That man gave me chills. Really. And there aren´t many things that scare me. 

When the excursion ended, I was ready to finally sit down next to Ptolemy, in the back of the bus, but that vile slimy as....ehhh, professor Khaba once again decided to destroy my great mood.  
“That´s not your seat, Bartimaeus,” he said, in the sing-song voice again and I really, really wanted to scream. I didn´t. I would, if the situation was different, but Solomon seemed quite angry with me these days so I decided to lay low for a bit. Ehm....even my parents seemed a bit...irritated. They refused to let me have a sleepover at Ptolemy´s last week. It was cruel.  
I bit my tongue to stop me from saying something inappropriate (like, why won´t you go and f*ck with your boyfriend and leave other people and their boyfriends alone) and shuffled to the seat next to Faquarl.  
“I hate him so much,” I whispered to his ear and he snickered.  
“At least something that we have in common,” he said with a grin.  
“Do you thing they are dating?” I asked him when Khaba left us, with Ammet in tow.  
Faquarl laughed. “I bet on it,” he said. “I mean, just look at them; I am sure they are making out in the chemistry cabinet.”  
I cringed at the image; I have a too vivid imagination and it´s my curse. “Blah,” I shivered. “Makes me sick.”  
We talked and talked and I realized that Faquarl is not such a bad company after all. He wasn´t as clever and quick-witted as me, of course, but he was above average and that means that he was worthy of my attention.

It wasn´t Faquarl who got sick, in the end. It was me.  
It was a painful and humilating experience during which I found myself being comforted by Faquarl, of all people (ehm, I am not really an expert at those things, but wasn´t he supposed to get sick at sight of someone else throwing up all over Khaba´s boots? (Yes, I made sure to make the best out of it and aim at all the strategic points. Jabor´s bag also looked worse for wear. When life give you lemons, better make some lemonade)) and I despised every second of it.  
Short and well, I wanted it to be forgotten and never spoken about. 

“Are you comfortable?” asked Faquarl with what seemed to be a friendly malice in his voice (because, hell, that´s me and Faquarl. We are always in a love/hate relationship of sorts. There always has to be a kiss with a fist).  
“Shut up,” I answered from where I was curled up against his shoulder, eyes tightly shut, trying to forget the embarrassment at the memory of Ammet giving me a bottle of water and some pills (I swear to god, that bottle was crystal and it had flowery design. I want to forget everything that followed me saying “it makes me sick”. Unfortunately, Ptolemy managed come from a back, to check on his sick, sick boyfriend and snap a photo of me and my misery. Damn the boy).  
I shifted slightly to get more comfortable, trying to forget that it wasn´t my pillow, but, in fact, Faquarl´s shoulder.  
“You know,” Faquarl whispered into my ear and I shivered when I felt his hot breath on my skin, “you are kinda cute. Better advise Ptolemy to watch over you better now.”  
I tensed and then let it go. Nah. I was too tired for shit like this now. I´ll deal with it sometime later, when I come back to my senses.  
....wait, WHAT?!


End file.
